Dedicated To You
by Toriga-Okami
Summary: This is a dedication folder. It contains stories dedicated to people who have reviewed my work. This one is for   SissyHIYAH. For Valentines day - or not as the case may be.
1. Quistis88

**_A/N:_** This is the first of a list of dedications to people who have reviewed my works. If you have given me a review, take a look in here. I will try my best to please. :)

-Okami

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><p>For Quistis88.<p>

The dancers; perfectly in time to the music, gliding gracefully across the floor with smiles fixed, seemingly perpetually to their faces. Happiness in dancing is something I have never found I've possessed and frankly, I'm not all that disappointed.

The decorations; all designed to give the impression of a glittering night in autumn, the tiny diodes on the silk across the ceiling shine in alternating brightness and as a civilian, I am dazzled. However, as a cynic I am unimpressed – they look nothing like real stars and we have a whole sky-full of real stars beyond a set of mere patio doors. If they wanted stars they could have held the thing outside.

The refreshments; tasty. But not delicious. I suppose I would be a little more forgiving if I were a sweet tooth, but as it is, the cakes and coconut ice blocks and champagne flutes full of sticky sweet pink liquid, are really not my thing.

The people; tolerable. Being as I have spent the last 5 years cooped up in a prison cell and have only recently been proven entirely innocent; one might think I would relish the idea of some company other than inmates and fuzz. And they would not be wrong, however this particular company are the very same who landed me in prison in the first place, so I shall be excused for feeling a little bitter.

The entertainment; sparse and yet completely overwhelming. I am blown away by the music and the couples whizzing past a few inches from the end of my nose. The 'stars' are beginning to get on my wick and if I look slightly to the left I get glare off that girl's oversized white ball gown. The entertainment I am really searching for is not allowed in this sort of a function and my clothes already smell of nicotine enough without my adding to it. I guess I should search for you instead.

You; ah me, now this is what I have been waiting for all night – the golden hair all curled and trapped neatly by what must be hundreds of pins, the deep red lips pursed in annoyance as your cornflower blue eyes fix me with an icy glare. The red dress you have chosen clings and sways in a way that makes me wish you didn't hate me so much, and you walk over to cause some damage with that quick tongue of yours. I have never met anyone who could meet me on equal grounds in a verbal spar, but you've always fired back like no one else ever dared. You are, by far, one of the most tolerable people in this room and I would gladly sit in your company for many an hour – who knows, I may even brave the dancing. But I can think I will be hard pressed the squeeze a dance out of you tonight, if the palm soaring towards my face is any indication.

With refined reflexes, I dodge the slap, ducking away and holding out one hand in order to hold you back should you decide to persist. A few heads turn at the commotion, but we are a familiar pair and our reunion was never going to be peaceful or even civilized.

"You're such an arse!" You hiss, both hands now balled into shaking fists at your sides. I pretend to brush some stray lint from my shoulder and don't answer, it's often best to let you shout yourself out before I prove you correct. But this time you simply stand there and glare at me. I can feel my corner of the room becoming colder by the second and I think there's a stalactite clinging to the silk ceiling above our heads. I dare not take my eyes from you to check.

"Why didn't you write to me?" I'll admit the question caught me off guard and there really is no way to disguise the surprised way my eye brows raised and the word 'huh?' that escaped me. A blush dusts your cheeks and something flickers in your gaze. I don't recognise it and curiosity has never been recommended.

"You had five years and you couldn't even write one letter?" It's hard to tell if your tone is joking or accusing, I've always found the second to be a safer bet when dealing with women.

"Paper is a hard thing to come by in high security prisons." I answer, hoping the truth will be enough to placate you, I really don't feel like starting the night with a black eye.

"Surely you had access to a phone at some point?"

"I didn't think you would appreciate the call."

"It would be better than nothing wouldn't it?"

I shake my head. Honestly, sometimes I just cannot understand what you want from me; you laugh at my insults; snarl at my jokes; pick at my temper; stab holes in my world with your perfectly manicured nails – which I notice you have painted red specifically for tonight – then bathe my wounds with words whispered like promises in my ear. If I were a lesser man, I might have run screaming from you by now. But unfortunately I am not and masochism remains to reside over our confusing relationship.

Quietly, I ask you for a dance and – to my somewhat reluctant delight – you accept. I cannot explain enough times the feeling I get when every other man on the dance floor stares unabashed as you glide onto the floor, but it makes my hackles raise and it tightens my fingers even more about your waist. Perhaps the word is possessive, but I wouldn't want to label it. Giving it a title makes it official.

"I thought you hated dancing." You whisper, voice soft and saccharin in my ear. To say that I have missed your voice would be an understatement; there have been nights when I craved the sound as I lay still in my bed, rethinking all the sweet and heart-warming things you've ever said to me. There are surprisingly few and it reaffirms my opinion that you hate me so.

"I don't hate dancing, I have never really found the point – I have no need for the exercise and as for romance, that's been a little thin on the ground for a while now."

"Then why did you ask me to dance?" Now, there are a million and one ways I could answer this – no jokes – and every single one of them tends to end badly for me. I pick one out of the pile and throw it into the ring.

"Thought I could show off my new shoes and their world class laces."

You're silent for a long time and it is only when I dip you that you respond. "How does it make you feel though?"

"About what?"

"The dancing. How does it make you feel?"

"Sleepy. You?"

"Self-concious."

I guess that makes sense given the amount of men currently undressing you with their eyes and I remember the first time you admitted you hate me. You'd just pulled my belt from my jeans and I was halfway through your shirt buttons when you said it, out of the blue – "I hate you so much, you know?" I mean, I know it was a pretty important moment in this charade we're jokingly calling a relationship, but you were so beautiful and I was so impatient that all I could answer was – "I know". Now I can only imagine the amount of money half these men would pay to even get a _peek_ at the pictures we took that night. But unfortunately for them I burnt every single one the day I realised I love you.

"Don't worry about it," I try and coax you to continue the dance – a slow waltz – "you look beautiful tonight anyway. Let them stare."

You stop dancing as I knew you would and drag me to the patio doors, opening them and pulling me outside. There is no one else out here, but the music and the sound of the fountain make up for it. The _real_ stars are shining overhead and they're much brighter than the fake ones inside. I can't help but feel happier out here. It is also very cold tonight and a glance at you shows you're shivering already. Not that I can blame you, the floor-length, red, backless number you've got going would make an Eskimo shiver in July.

Ever the gentleman, I slip my jacket off and it out for you. You shake your head no, but I drop it over you anyway.

"It smells of smoke." You complain, wrinkling your nose and giving me a look that clearly states you're unimpressed. Well it's not really my fault, there isn't much else one has ready access to in the d-district, other than alcohol and I made full use of that liberty already.

"It's better than nothing." I mirror your words and you turn to lean against the stone patio railing, not bothering to give me a reply. I sigh and dig in my trouser pockets for my cigarettes and a lighter. I can see you watching me from the corner of one eye as I light up and the small sigh you let out steams in the cold night air. We stand in silence for a while and it is not until I am about to light up a second one that you straighten up and turn to face me.

"Give me one then." You say with one hand out. You sound as though you're giving in to me, as if I had been pushing you for a very long time and finally you cannot resist anymore. One eyebrow raised, I nudge a third cigarette from the pack and offer it up. You take it and place it between your lips, leaning in to light it off the tip of mine and I feel my eyebrows rise even further towards my hairline. I had never taken you to be a smoker, or even in the least bit rebellious, but then again, you weren't exactly abiding by the law when you slept with me, so a cigarette seems almost childish in comparison.

We are silent again and it is only when the entire packet is gone that you speak again, "Follow me."

Unquestioningly, I do as I am bidden and you lead us away into the darkness of the gardens. When you stop us again we are in the shelter of the orchard, apple blossoms falling all around us and some of the petals have fallen in your hair. I pick them out carefully and you turn to face me. You have that look in your eyes – the same look you had the first night we did this – and I think myself incapable of understanding your hatred of me, it is unlike any I have ever seen. I bend my neck as you reach up to me. Your mouth is hot and sweet and I can taste some of that coconut ice you must have enjoyed earlier before I ruined your evening. It is sweet and saccharin and it doesn't last. You grab my belt and begin fumbling with the buckle as I push the jacket from your shoulders and push the straps of your dress down too. For a second I am overwhelmed and it has nothing to do with the stars, music or the pink apple blossoms catching in your hair, but before I can identify what or why, you stop my thoughts from straying to that dangerous ground:

"I still hate you, you know."

I tell myself that curiosity has never been recommended, but then again I know what and why. But there will be no pictures this time, only my memories so I guess I'll have to burn my heart instead; because I'm still in love with you.

"I know."


	2. SissyHIYAH

_**For SissyHIYAH **_- Coz I luv ya dawg :D

WARNING! WARNING! - Misery ahead.

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><p><strong>Happy Valentine's Day.<strong>

"Go on, break it to us slowly."

"We're getting married."

"I'm sorry – who?"

"Me and Almasy."

"Oiy vey..."

The news had been like a bullet to the heart. Rinoa told him not to be so negative about it and even tried to give him a dictionary definition of the word 'selflessness' but he wasn't having any of it. He wasn't having any of it because he just couldn't believe it. The words that had exited Quistis' mouth were complete lies, weren't they? There was no reason for her to marry that oaf and there was no reason for him to even contemplate 'selflessness', regardless of how the world would see him later. He contemplated giving the order for Seifer's arrest and subsequent execution. But upon discovering his roughly drawn up plans, Rinoa had screamed herself hoarse and torn them to pieces before stalking off. He'd settled for simple hatred of the situation instead.

It was as clear to him now, as it had been clear many years ago; Quistis was still in love with him. She didn't harbour a shred of emotion or feeling for Almasy. She wouldn't have spoken so formally of him if she did and she certainly wouldn't have skirted the subject. While Almasy might still be guarding the feelings he'd had before the war, for Quistis, this was nothing more than a pity marriage. She would be miserable without him to follow around and to give her orders. Almasy couldn't offer her half the satisfaction that he could and it was blindingly obvious that Quistis did _not_ want to do this. So why the fuck should he sit back and watch 'selflessly' as one of his friends doomed herself to an existence of misery?

Rinoa felt much the same way. She could tell that Quistis was unhappy and her heart wasn't really in this marriage. If she was honest, she would say that Seifer seemed more haggard than usual and nothing horrible had happened to the student population in his general vicinity for a little while. Questions were begging to be asked about just how serious the two of them were in this engagement and when she got the chance, Rinoa planned to ask.

It was only two days before their scheduled marriage when the opportunity presented itself. Rinoa found Quistis on the balcony, leaning on the rail and staring out into the bright blue of the midday sky.

"How are you?" Rinoa began, her tone light and airy, "Excited?"

"Fairly." Quistis replied, her tone dull and revealing her lie. She didn't even bother to _try_ and sound convincing.

"Oh good," Rinoa ignored the obvious and stuck to her guns. "I was worried you might be stressing over it. I know I would be."

"Not at all." Came the reply and Rinoa saw Quistis raise a cigarette to her lips. Shit, things had really gone downhill hadn't they...

"Well that's lucky then. I mean, Seifer seems stressed." It was an understatement and by the look the blonde was giving her from the corner of her eye, Rinoa knew she'd been sussed out.

"He does, doesn't he." A puff of smoke. "Say what you're going to say, Rin. Let's not play petty games."

"I'm worried this isn't what you want." Rinoa admitted, sitting on the railing to get out of the way of the smoke. "I'm worried you're going to regret this and Seifer too. Tell me I'm wrong."

"Will you shut up if I comply?"

Rinoa shook her head. Geez, these military types were all the same, but she'd never expected it from Quistis. "No, of course not. It's in two days and I don't believe that-"

"Then you're right. I will regret this. I'll spend the rest of my life regretting it – however long or short that may be – and Seifer will regret it too." Another inhalation and another breath of smoke. "In fact I think it's safe to say he's regretting it now."

"Then why are you?"

"Because I love him, it's the best I'll ever get and to be honest, I can't see anyone who's willing to take either of us."

Rinoa shook her head and the pair of them gazed out at the passing countryside for a moment. It was a peaceful scene and Rinoa was loath to destroy it, but she still had more questions.

"Does it have to be marriage?"

"Of course it doesn't, we just both know that that's what will piss Squall off the most."

"So you're still in love with Squall."

"This isn't the sort of thing one does to the people they love, Rinoa."

The brunette frowned in confusion. Blue eyes were watching her and a cigarette was paused on its way to a pair of grimly-set lips. True, this wasn't something you did to the people you love, but then using the people you loved for revenge against a past failed conquest wasn't exactly awe-inspiring either.

"So, do you love Seifer or not?"

"Do you?"

"No."

"There you go then. Do you love Squall?"

"Of course."

"Then naturally you would never understand."

"I don't see what I wouldn't understand!" Rinoa said, pushing herself from the railing and swatting the cigarette from Quistis' hand – she hated smoking anyway and now she was pissed as well.

"The difference between loving Squall and loving Seifer." Quistis said, fishing another cigarette from her jacket pocket and putting it between her lips before delving into her jacket once more and coming up with a lighter. "One is very successful and the other is not. One you can love and the other you can't. You love Squall because he is good looking, successful, sensible, intelligent and guaranteed to love you until the day he dies."

"I don't see what you're getting at."

"He's vain. He loves you because you're as perfect as he is and he can't bare anyone who isn't perfect. It's why he and I never even made it to friendship while you got all the way to romance within a few seconds. Seifer tried to love you at one point because you seem like you have so many flaws."

Rinoa made a face.

"You're short, you're a runaway and you hate your Dad for a legitimate reason. But that's just it. You're the exact height a woman should be, you ran away to liberate a town from a terrorist and unjust president and your legitimate reason is actually a legitimate reason. He couldn't love you enough to be better than you and he hated that, whereas for Squall, you're exactly the type of person to hold a candle to his flames." Quistis blew a smoke ring in the air. "Seifer doesn't love forever. It's a shame really."

"So what you're trying to say is that Seifer loves you because you're not perfect?" Rinoa asked, trying her best not to preen at the compliments. Quistis noticed however and shook ash in her direction.

"No of course he doesn't love me. I'm worthless as a love interest to him. He could have as many women as he wants, probably will once he's securely endowed with my money, what's the use in staying with one woman when you could have a taste of a hundred? I'm a tribute to my creed really."

"Your creed?"

"The truly pitiful, gormless type with no self-esteem and a hankering for emotional punishment. I'll work myself day and night to pay off the bills of some ungrateful basterd or country. I'll marry a man because he's the only one who asked. I must be mad and yet I continue, fully aware of the fact that I'm being used and will never ever develop the backbone enough to try and escape." She chuckled. "I've been doing it all my life. Someone in love would never understand. That's what I mean."

Silence reigned once again and Rinoa felt something in her heart. It must have been that bullet Squall was talking about earlier. The one he'd sketched in the corner of the pages of his murder plan. Feeling it now, Rinoa felt a sense of kinship with her boyfriend that she'd never experienced before. For the time being, she felt some of that pain he'd written about.

"You know, Squall doesn't want you to do this."

"Fuck what he wants. Why in the hell should he care? If he wanted to stop me he should have done it a long time ago. Maybe you should have been a little less perfect and then I wouldn't have to stand in your limelight all the time."

"This isn't helping you."

"Nothing is helping me Rinoa. In two days I will be Mrs Almasy by title and dead to the world. Maybe I should write a book about it and Seifer can have the royalties." She let out a bark of laughter and took a long drag from her cigarette, burning the thing almost to the filter, but not quite. "Fuck help. Fuck Squall. Fuck love. Who needs it huh? Not me. I got by just fine without it and that's the way it's gonna stay."

"You don't know that someone in Garden doesn't love you right now!" Rinoa said quickly, watching the ash fall from Quistis' fag and hit her nicely polished boots. The normal Quistis would have tried to brush it off immediately, but this Quistis just tapped a little more off the end of her cigarette. "You have no idea whether or not someone in here is in pain just thinking of you marrying someone else!"

"Then fuck them too, Rinoa." Quistis said, tossing the butt over the balcony and turning to face her 'friend', arms crossed over her chest. "Why are you standing out here lecturing me? What the fuck are you gaining from this? Just rubbing it in my face that I haven't got a fairytale ending? Just rubbing it in my face that you're Cinderella and I'm the ugly soon-to-be step-sister? What?"

"No!" She was aghast. No one had ever called her Cinderella before and she had never once considered that she might be. Of course she wasn't so blind as to not realise that she was damned lucky to be where she was. And of course she had realised that not all stories end with a happy one. But Quistis was being ridiculous! "You're being ridiculous! What the hell do you mean I'm rubbing it in your face?"

Quistis' voice turned whiney to imitate Rinoa's. "You'll regret this! You're making Seifer sad! No one wants you to do this! I can understand!" Rinoa's mouth fell open to protest but Quistis wasn't finished. "Bullshit! I don't care what people want me to do. I don't care if I'll regret this! I know I'm making him miserable! But don't even _try_ to tell me you _understand_! What do you understand? Huh? What in the fucking hell do you understand about this?"

Rinoa was stunned. She'd never been shouted at before. Not by anyone. Not her Dad, not Squall, not even Seifer had shouted at her. But now Quistis looked pissed off and borderline hysterical. Rinoa took a step back.

"What the fuck do you know?" Quistis continued, her voice calmer now and much more controlled. "You wander around in this castle in the sky with you princess credentials and your knight in shining armour while the rest of us have to work hard to achieve what we'll never get. Squall was given his status in a state of emergency and in the end he kept t because there was no one else in the room at the time. I've worked my arse off, my fingers to the bone for this place and all it ever gave me was a taste of what I wanted before ripping it all away from me. All Seifer ever did was fight for this place and they turned him over each time like dirt. He was the best student I ever had – believe it or not – and he is by far the most experienced SeeD in this whole fucking joke, so excuse me if I say we deserve to be allowed to do what we want for once, be it fall in love, get married, destroy the world and kill ourselves in the proceeds, or not."

"Quisty..."

"Rinoa."

Silence again. Rinoa thought she liked it better when Quistis was talking, at least then it didn't feel as though she was staring. Apparently giving up on staring her out, Quistis sighed and ran a hand through her hair, turning away again and leaning on the railing once more. Just then a knock came on the balcony doors. It was a ruff looking Seifer to whom Quistis extended the greeting: "You look like shit."

He ignored her for the most part and turned to Rinoa. "Leonhart's looking for you."

"Ok, thank you." Rinoa said meekly and scurried past him into the hallway. But she didn't go looking for Squall. She hid behind the curtain and listened.

Seifer sighed and said, "You don't want to marry me. Do you?"

"If you loved me I might."

"Might what? Want to marry me, or not want to marry me?"

"Take your pick." Seifer heaved another sigh and offered to call the whole thing off. Quistis merely laughed. "With two days to go? The Devil will be disappointed, Almasy."

"I'm not so sure I care about the Devil now, Trepe."

"You don't want to marry me, do you?"

"I might if you loved me."

"Might what? Want to marry me, or call the whole thing off?"

"Take your pick."

There was silence for a while and Rinoa was absolutely dying to take a peak around the curtain, but she held herself in check for the sake of preserving her head. In the unlikely event that they _were_ locked in an amorous embrace, she didn't want to disturb them.

"I'm never going to say it." Quistis said and it sounded as though she'd just lit up again. So much for the amorous embracing then.

"Good. I wouldn't want you to. Although that poses a problem for the wedding night."

"There isn't going to be a wedding, Almasy, it's a marriage. We're gonna sign the register, my fortune will belong to you and I will belong to you, we'll exchange cheques, you go off on your little fishing trip and I'll guard the house until you get back. Play happy families again."

"Fine. Marriage night then. You _do_ know what happens on a marriage night, don't you?"

"Pssh, of course. But I wouldn't mind so much if you loved me first."

"I might have loved you first, in a sad, miserable sort of way."

"I don't follow."

"Fuck, Trepe, it's not that hard to understand." Rinoa held her breath, praying that he would say the words she hoped he might. He didn't. Not in the way she hoped he'd have meant it. "You were the golden girl, everybody's crown and glory. How could we not fall for you?"

"I would never have counted you among the ranks of the Trepies."

"Good. I would never have wanted to be associated with that scum."

"Good."

There was a slight pause and then, "You still love Leonhart don't you."

"No. Not for a long time."

Rinoa frowned. How long was a long time in her books? Because as far as Rinoa was concerned - and given that the war had only been over for little over a year - it had not been so long ago that Quistis had made one last punt at Squall and their feelings.

"Why does that make me breathe easier?"

"Maybe because it's gratifying to know that the woman you're about to marry is in love with no other?"

"That would make sense wouldn't it." She could just imagine him running a hand through his hair as he sighed. "Do you want to have a honeymoon? I mean, personally I'd rather go straight to a bar and drink until I drop. Maybe then you can drag me home and we'll fuck on your office desk."

"The way we used to."

"There'll be more vomit this time."

"Scared you might drown?"

"Nah. I think I got over this asphyxiation a long time ago, Instructor."

"Good."

"Good."

"Do you want to?"

"I might do. You?"

"Sure thing. Why not? It's only the rest of our lives, why not start killing ourselves now?"

Silence reigned and Rinoa felt the urge to peek again. But she couldn't. This wasn't cute, this wasn't romantic. They both sounded like they were on death row, on their way to the block. They were discussing their lives as if it was make believe. 'Happy families'.

When Rinoa told him she'd spoken with Quistis, he simply rolled his eyes and looked away. The conversation went exactly as he thought it would have. She was saying fuck them all and so was Almasy. No, it didn't quite break his heart to see his friend doom herself to a lifetime of misery and no, it didn't quite persuade him that he wasn't a perfect human being for feeling ok to be rid of her. He'd had time to think. Time to replan his murder of Seifer Almasy. But instead he'd realised what they were doing. What they were all doing. They were all just denying who they were. Rinoa loved him and he loved Rinoa. Almasy loved Quistis and Quistis loved no one. She was selling herself into what she knew – compromise and settling for what she could get, regardless of whether or not it was what she wanted. They were as pitiful as each other and they fit each other perfectly. Their inadequacies were what made him sick and they would never be half the humans they claimed to be. He hated them, but why kill them? They would kill each other with time.

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><p><em><strong>AN:**_ Squall the dickhead rises again! MUHAHAHAHAAAA Oh well, I know it's a little early, but I'm gonna be in Russia from monday 13th to Friday 17th so I won't be able to post anything **on** Valentines day, so... think of this as my Anti-Valentines Dedication to you. Love ya!

-Okami.


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